


try to baptize me (scandalous youth is my only religion)

by NIGHTCOURTED



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/F, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 02:15:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20481191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NIGHTCOURTED/pseuds/NIGHTCOURTED
Summary: tired of destructive boys with killer tendencies and mortality woven into their veins fighting for each other.





	try to baptize me (scandalous youth is my only religion)

**Author's Note:**

> akira and leandro. the fall of the empire.

AKIRA HATED THE CITY. It stood for everything he was against and everything he’d never had. The Kyatchāv had taken over the city 20 years ago, about two years before Akira had even been born, and they’d wrapped their jaws around their prize and didn’t let go — and they still hadn’t. It’s not like they’d listen to him though, Akira was practically a criminal in their eyes, but he couldn’t stand what they’d done to the city. It made him sick.  
That’s why it was so ironic that he worked within it. He always ended up back at the city, wandering its streets, pushing past the darkness that lurked in the alleys. Dante and Hiroshi would’ve killed him otherwise.

  
He owed it to them anyways; they were the ones who showed him just how horrible the Kyatchā was. He had been clueless to all of it, clueless to the city and to the whole world.  
It worried a deep, hidden part of Akira to this day. He was terrified of how stupid he was; too stupid to realize what was going on right beneath his nose. He always squashed that part of him down. It wasn’t his fault he had been that stupid, he’d grown up convinced the Kyatchā were making the world better than it ever had been.

  
All of these feelings didn’t matter when he roamed the streets. The people smiled and greeted him as Akira rushed by, but they were never given a reply. Neon lights danced over the dimly lit city, its buildings staring down at him in vibrant purples that fluttered against his pale skin when Akira pushed through the crowds and shoved people out of his way as people apologized to him. On the outside, it looked like gorgeous. And when Akira was younger, he believed it was.

  
But now he knew better than to believe. He knew the lies and scandals this city was nearly drowning in. He wanted to shout and scream, but he couldn’t. That would cause too much trouble. They wouldn’t notice. They never did.  
It was better if they didn’t know.

  
Akira revved up the engine of his motorcycle and was almost onto the streets when a boy, probably the same age as him, threw himself in the seat, gasping for air. He had curly brown hair that had been made into an undercut and his skin was ochre, as if bathed in mellow forest light. He wore a long trench coat and large army boots, though he seemed rather scrawny — save for a bit of muscle and his height.

  
_“Drive!”_

  
Whoever this kid was, Akira was not gonna be taking orders from him; it wasn’t his motorcycle after all. Also, Akira was too young to be the victim of a hijacking (though almost accidentally killing himself numerous times was there on his list.) Murder? As if. He'd come back from the dead and continue his life even if he died. And he was not leaving his motorcycle in the filthy hands of whoever this was.

  
Akira swung his head at him, eyes wide with fury but then there was a flash of familiarity, and he had to stop himself. He’d seen this kid a few days ago. It had been night, though the burning violet lights had made it seem like some sketchy night club instead when he had propped his motorcycle on the side of the road to grab a drink. Akira had barely gotten off when a boy — no, the boy as he now knew — had looked him up and down before shooting him a sly grin. Under the neon lights, he seemed more like a mirage than a person when, with a childish amusement in his eyes, he said,

  
“Cool ride, dude,” but Akira hadn’t replied. Had instead went on his way. The boy hadn’t been memorable then.

  
Now, Akira searched the boy’s face as he shouted at him before he noticed the boy’s hand clutching his side where blood had soaked through his coat and stained his hand. But then there are people. They weaved dangerously in and out of traffic, screaming and shouting at the boy, firing their guns at them, but they must’ve been as blinded as Akira was in the fluttering lights because they missed. They must be Kyatchāv soldiers, He realized as he barely made out the shape of their uniforms and their strange voices. Only they could make so much noise in barely a mere heartbeat.

  
Akira felt his heart racing in his chase, the adrenaline pumping into every crevice of his body as if trying to escape and his heart practically shrieking at the ear-splitting sound of metal on metal from the bullets, but he managed to frantically drive away, blurring down the street as he was chased by the onslaught of soldiers. He skidded wildly around corners, feeling the wind whip across his face as he blinked through stinging eyes, his feet blistering in his boots.

  
Akira drove quite recklessly, desperate to put the soldiers behind the both of them. He weaved in and out of traffic, driving at least ten miles over the speed limit. Every time he sped up, the boy squeezed a little tighter. He seemed to be having a good time though. Akira could hear his laugh in his ear every time they accelerated.

  
Soon, they passed through the gateway that served as an entrance to the city. Apparently, it’d been built to safeguard the city when the last war broke out. They’d never taken it down.

  
Akira didn’t slow down. He kept speeding along the road, dodging cars when they got in his way. “We left the city!” the boy yelled at him.

  
“We have to go a little further!” Akira yelled back. “It’s safest that way!” He felt the boy nodded against his back, and Akira sped up even more.

  
Before long, the sound of soldiers and firing bullets was gone. And they were at Dante and Hiroshi’s house. Oh god, what would they think? He had a wounded boy who had jumped onto the back of his motorcycle and had been chased by the Kyatchāv! It was bad enough that they were all sworn enemies of the city, did they really need another? Oh well, Akira could face Dante’s fury just this once.  
And then, Akira and the boy promptly passed out right there.

◦❦◦

WHEN LEANDRO WOKE UP, HE COULD’VE SWORN HE WAS DYING. Slowly, he tried to get up but Leandro quickly realized how futile it was when he had to bite his lip to keep from crying out. Sharp pain lanced through his head and colorful spots flashed in front of his eyes, it felt like his whole body had been beaten and every movement caused some muscle or bone to ache. All because of one bullet.

  
He could practically imagine Pana shooting him her classic bitch look and snickering. Not like she would tell him why she was laughing, all she ever said was, “Go ask Hanare.” But Hanare couldn’t give a care in the world about Pana and his petty squabbles. He simply rolled his eyes and continued doing what ‘productive’ thing he had been doing before (which was baking cookies, but it wasn’t like Leo complained. They were pretty sick cookies.)  
Focus here, Leo! He told himself, scolding himself. Soon I won’t have any petty squabbles with Pana or Hanare's awesome cookies if I don’t get out of here and save them!

  
Jumping onto the back of Ghost Boy’s motorcycle had been a stupid idea. His Mamá would’ve been furious if she ever found out and he understood why. He barely even knew the guy! He could’ve been a murderer for all Leandro knew! Or even a kidney stealer! He frantically looked below at his stomach and felt around to see if his kidneys were missing. They were not. He breathed a sigh of relief.  
And now he was alone in this house! They must’ve been on the outskirts of town. The houses there had never gotten upgraded and were made out of wood and stone. It was strangely quiet before he heard a sudden bang and a shout, “Akira! Get over here!”

  
Leandro scuttled towards where the noise came from, peering into a room that looked like a kitchen. A man stood by the stove, standing by a pile of ginger and boiling water in a kettle. He had deep, mocha skin and short, brown hair paired with odd, black frames. Were those … glasses? The Kyatchāv had created a machine that could give people perfect vision and the need for glasses had ran out for years.

  
He let out a quiet gasp when he saw Ghost Boy, who wore a large, red jacket with white stripes, ripped jeans, and black boots with a pair of goggles sitting in the untamed black mess that was his hair. “What?“

  
"If you’re going to come to my house, bring a boy with a gun shot in his side and don’t even bother helping me take it out then you better help me!” Dante shouted back, glaring at Ghost Boy. Leandro decided that the exchange was hilarious considering their rather ... frivolous height difference.

  
He sheepishly stepped into the kitchen, clutching his bandaged side. “Hey, um, thanks for taking a bullet out of my stomach,” He said weakly, before hastily turning to Ghost Boy and adding. “And thanks for letting me hitch a ride on your motorcycle. Look, I‘d love to stay & chit chat and all but I really should be going—’’

  
“Nonsense!” Dante stared at him as if he were a fish in a tree. “You’re hurt and you need time to heal! Akira, go and sit with him in the living room. You must be the same age, go on and talk. Don’t start a gunfight.”

  
Ghost Boy rolled his eyes, “Sure.” And then the two of them walked into the living room.

  
“Sooo,” Leandro started. “Are you telling me Ghost Boy isn’t your real name?”

  
“No,” Akira said bluntly.

  
"My name’s Leandro.”

  
“Cool.”

  
Leandro frowned at him. What was his problem? It’s not like he had done anything to Akira and besides, Leandro was an alright guy. He was just about to get up and ask to go to the bathroom when he shifted and suddenly the was the loud bang of a gunshot hitting the walls.

  
Akira and him shrieked, scrambling up before staring down to find Leandro’s rifles looking up at them innocently. “What’s going on here?” A man stood on top of the stairs, peering down at them in confusion. He had a broad, muscular build, sharp grey eyes, a scar slashed across his nose, and hair cut into a crew cut with a tuft of white hair sticking out from his forehead. They must’ve woken him up.

  
“Hey Hiroshi,” Akira greeted weakly, as if almost embarrassed.

  
Dante walked into the room, holding a tray of various snacks before stopping in his tracks and looking at the scene. The wall had a hole in it now, him and Akira looked terrified, and Hiroshi was just plain confused.

  
“Didn’t I say not to have a gun fight?”

X

“So … you’re telling me you jumped onto the back of Akira’s motorcycle because the government was chasing you?” Hiroshi deadpanned.

  
"Um, if I say yes, will you beat me up?” Leandro said nervously, eyeing Hiroshi prosthetic arm. It looked like it could pack a punch. Then again, Hiroshi was terrifying even without it.

  
“Of course not!” Hiroshi laughed, shooting him a smile that made Leandro relax and even smile back at him. “Just letting him now that he’s the one who’s paying for his motorcycle.”

  
Akira mumbled, “Don’t rub it in.”

  
After a few moments of awkward silence, Leandro finally cut through the tension by speaking up. “My name’s Leandro, but feel free to call me Leo,” He said.

  
“So, are you guys roommates or?”

  
“Actually,” Dante replied, leaning back in his seat as he took a sip of tea. “Hiroshi and I are married and Akira’s kinda our son? Not legally, but since I’ve been feeding an feral animal for the past 6 years, it might as well be.”

  
Akira set down his cup of tea and stood up, as if he were annoyed. By what? Leandro talking to his parents? Embarrassment, sure. But not annoyance. What was his problem? But suddenly he swung his head at Leandro and he couldn’t help but shrink under the burning gaze of those lilac eyes. “Why was the Kyatchāv chasing you?” He demanded. “What did you do?”

  
Leandro glared at him. He wanted to scream and shout at him, but he didn’t want to shove away Dante and Hiroshi’s kindness all because their idiot son didn’t like him. So instead, he took a deep breath and said, “My friends, Pana and Hanare, and I snuck into an Kyatchāv prison last night. Pana’s brother and father were taken there, but nobody believed her — not even her own mother, I’m sure you guys don’t either, but hear me out. We got in, but Pana and Hanare ended up getting captured. I snuck around for hours, trying to find them and escape, but the Kyatchāv ended up chasing me out. And, well, you know the rest of the story.”

  
There was silence. Then Hiroshi spoke, “I’m so sorry for how Akira spoke to you, it was so rude. I don’t know what’s gotten into him. And of course we believe you. We’re not fans of the Kyatchāv either. You know what? We’ll help you—”

  
“What!” Akira exclaimed, staring at Hiroshi with wide eyes as if he had grown two heads. He seemed confused, but mostly angry as he waved his arms around frantically, voice loud and sharp. “We shouldn’t help him! We’re enemies of the Kyatchāv as well! If they capture us, they’ll kill us right there and then! Or worse.”

  
Dante glared at him, “Don’t you dare say that! We’re helping, whether you like it or not.”

◦❦◦

AKIRA DID NOT LIKE IT as it turned out. He thought it was the most ridiculous idea in the history of ridiculous ideas. Why should they risk their lives just to save two people? Besides, it wasn’t like Dante and Hiroshi even knew whoever this ‘Pana’ and ‘Hanare’ was! For all they knew, Leandro, if that was his name, could’ve been lying about all of this instead of confessing to his true crime. Not that Akira could prove it, but still.

  
There was no use in talking Dante out of it. He was furiously adamant about it, and Hiroshi had always been the Humble Hero type so Akira hadn’t bothered to even try talking to him. He didn’t understand. Why should they listen to Leandro? They barely knew him!  
His answer came after many hours of him nagging Dante about it, but it wasn’t the answer Akira wanted and one he didn’t deserve.

  
Dante had swung his head at Akira, glaring at him through dark brown eyes and a death stare that might as well have burned through Akira because he felt a pang of fear at it. “Be quiet! Be quiet! You don’t understand, do you? Do you?” He asked repeatedly, voice becoming sharper with each word like a dagger trying to strike Akira. He almost felt like apologizing, but his own temper rose up as Dante shouted at him. “Hiroshi was taken by the Kyatchāv when we were younger — nobody believed me when I said they had taken him, but guess what? I took a plane and snuck into the prison. I found him, bloody and beaten and missing his left arm! He isn’t lying about what they do to humans, Akira, can’t you see that?”  
He’d stormed off, and Akira had no chance to apologize. Not even now, a few days after.  
Dante and Hiroshi had both been excellent pilots, but they hadn’t flown a pod in years. Well, legally anyways. Hiroshi had disappeared for two nights before he had come home in the middle of the night, lugging back an old, but relatively large aircraft. Akira had no idea why he’d brought it home, but now, he could figure it out.

  
They stood inside of the aircraft — Dante, Hiroshi, Leandro, and himself — as they flew over the said prison that Leandro’s ‘friends’ were trapped in. The aircraft’s subdued black and purple paint was enveloped in a cloud of old dust. The blades that beat the air had much the same effect as a small tornado on the loose ground cover, Akira’s hair whipped annoyingly at his face as he angrily shoved his goggles on to try to subdue it. It worked, but just barely.

  
As Hiroshi and Dante flew them over the city, Akira couldn’t help but be in awe. As much as he hated it, he couldn’t deny that the city, though ruined from the Kyatchāv’s technology, was gorgeous. As they flew over the main entrance to the city, Akira could see the gate guarded by statues of Hanshin and Haruga, deities of knowledge and power in the Kyatchāv’s world. There wasn’t much of anything else though, the Kyatchāv’s architect had made it so that no plants could grow except for an odd purple shrub and strange berries that were said to make someone go mad. The ground was built out of a dark, almost black plateau with masses of neon lights, mostly blue and red. The buildings mostly resembles what humans would’ve made before, but now they held an air of mystery as they reflected off of the neon lights and stared down at citizens. The electric thumb of cars and motorcycles filled the air, as well as the stench of smoke as they moved along.

  
"It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Leandro came and sat down beside him, legs dangling off the edge of the aircraft. It was dangerous, but it was no harm if Dante and Hiroshi just looked behind them. The boy’s trench coat fluttered wildy in their wind, as well as the curls of his hair as they blew over his eyes.

  
Akira would’ve laughed, but he bit it down with a faint smile. “Yeah, it is,” He agreed, nodding. The boy shoots him a look of surprise and opened his mouth before Akira cut him off. “This doesn’t mean I like you, Blue. You did shoot a hole in my wall, after all.”

  
“That was an accident!” He squawked back in indignation and that was enough for Akira to let out a laugh. Leandro huffed before grinning slyly at him.

  
“See! You like me! I made you laugh!”  
“Making someone laugh just once in your presence doesn’t mean they like you.”

  
"Of course it does, it means you think I’m funny! Haven’t you ever, I dunno, learned what laughing meant?” Leandro asked sarcastically before shooting him a smile. “And besides, I can make anyone laugh! In fact, I consider myself to be a rather amazing person.“

  
Akira rolled his eyes, “I’m afraid I’m not a big fan of egotistical men. They’re not interesting in any way.”

  
“Perhaps you haven’t met the right egotistical man.”

  
“As if,” Akira snorted. “You’re probably the worst.”

  
“Oh really?” Leandro dared, offering him a playful smile and teasing look. He stood up to his full height, which was rather tall, and wagged a finger at Akira. “Then fight me! If you win, then I truly am the worst. But if I win, that means you like me!”

  
“Ah,” Akira stood up, deciding to play the guy’s game. If he wanted a fight, then he’d get one. Just not the one he wanted. “But are you ticklish?”

  
Leandro looked utterly confused, and didn’t even have time to respond as Akira tackled him and he barely even touched Leandro, who wiggled and shrieked as he tried to get away. “No fair! This isn’t an actual fight!” He shouted between his laughter and before Akira stopped and got off of him.

  
“I win,” He stated simply. “You’re the worst.”

  
“Am not! And you didn’t even give me a warning—’’

  
“If you guys are done with your, ah, fight, maybe you guys could actually do what you’re supposed to be doing?” Dante said through the microphone pieces they had attached to their ears. Akira and Leandro both jumped at the same time, staring at each other with sheepish looks. “Hiroshi and I are going to travel around the city, so tell us 10 minutes in advance so that we can come by and pick you up. Try not to die.”

  
Akira peered over the edge of the aircraft, where a huge prison met his gaze. Try not to die, indeed he thought. And then they both jumped.

X

Akira and Leandro land on top of the prison’s roof, the cool, marble surface almost ice-cold under Akira’s touch. He unsheathed his knife from his pocket, the silver glinting under the neon lights as he carefully traced a circle against the marble — softly at first before digging into it and making a deeper cut. Akira grits his teeth at the squeaky, sharp sound it makes as he eases the marble out of the cut, setting it aside carefully.

  
If they made even the slightest mistake, they would die. And Akira had much better things to die then dying, thanks.

  
He looked up at Leandro, “Be careful. Don’t shoot anybody unless it’s necessary. We go in, find your friends, and get out. Got that?”

  
Leandro shot him an annoyed glare, “Well, who died and made you leader, Mr. Hotshot?”

  
“Myself,” Akira sniped back. “Who else?”

  
“I figured. Only someone like you would be as leaderly as you are tall.”

  
“And if men like you thought about every stupid thing they did, they would have nothing else to do.”

  
After a very lengthy and tedious time of both of them glaring at each other, Leandro sighed and slipped into the prison from the circle. Akira stared after him, rolling his eyes and muttering under his breath, but following in pursuit nonetheless. As he came down, Leandro grabbed his arm and dragged him around the corner, holding a finger to Akira’s mouth.

  
`_Shh_,’ he mouthed to Akira, who squinted at him to make out the words. He stared briskly at Akira before gesturing to the hall. Akira turned and peered out from the shadows, which seemed to do a good job of hiding him and Leandro. Two soldiers marched down the halls, holding heavy army rifles in their arms as they spoke in low murmurs, though Akira could confirm that it wasn’t English but before they could even pass, Leandro rushed into them, slamming his pistol into one of the soldiers, who fell down in a limp pile.

  
The other soldier rushed at him, shouting for a heartbeat before Leandro turned and shot at him with his double pistols, which made no noise besides the soldier crumpling to the ground, clutching his chest as blood bled through. Akira stared at the scene as Leandro blew his breath at his pistols like some movie star.

  
“What was that!” He snapped at him, staring at him with wide eyes. What part of ‘don’t shoot anybody unless it’s necessary’ did Leandro not understand? What was his problem? Pissing off Akira? “I said not to shoot unless it was necessary.”

  
“Oh,” Leandro blinked at him innocently, as if it was an honest mistake. He shrugged at Akira. “Oops. I forgot.”

  
“Sure, you did! There’s going to be other soldiers here, there must be cameras here, look—” but when Akira went to point at the cameras, he found them shattered with bullets through them. He swung his head back at Leandro, wide-eyed and wide-mouthed. “What? How did you do that? I didn’t even see you!”

  
“I’m a sharpshooter, what did you expect?” Leandro grinned at him, before Akira noticed what he was doing, which was easing off the armor for the guy he’d knocked unconscious, which meant he was naked and oh god—  
Akira turned away, covering his eyes but Leandro tossed him the guy’s armor. “Hey, don’t be ungrateful. I gave you the bloodless one. Go on, wear it. We’ll shove these guys into this corner and pretend to be soldiers. Smart, huh?”

  
Akira pursed his lips, but turned away and quickly put the armor over his clothes. It was hot, but he was not having some random guy touching his clothes. When he turned back, Leandro was already wearing the armor and shoving the naked soldiers into the dark corner. Akira gestured to the guards. "Is it safe to leave them, you know-"

  
"Alive? I'm not big on killing unconscious men."

  
"We could wake them up.”

  
Leandro’s lips quirked into a smile, “I’m not sure if you’re serious or not, but I’d rather not have the answer to that.”

  
“Whatever you say, Sharpshooter,” Akira said.  
Another soldier was walking down the hall, but he was much taller (and muscled) then either of them. They straightened up, saluting to him in the classic Kyatchāv way — their right arm over their shoulder while they put their left hand to their forehead. The soldier stared at them before gruffly growling,

  
“Desutoro? Chigau? What are you doing? You are suppose to go feed the prisoners in the West Wing! Go now before cut your tongues out and feed it to the next stray cat I find!” The last part he shouted loudly, making Leandro and Akira both nod furiously as they scrambled away.

  
“Pana and Hanare are in the West Wing!” Leandro whispered excitedly to Akira, eyes bright and flashing with joy. Akira couldn’t help but smile at him too.

  
“We’re going to save them! You know, you’re not so bad, Red.”

  
“I’ll believe that the day fish climb trees,” Akira sniffed. “But … you’re pretty okay, Blue.”

◦❦◦

They hurried down to the West Wing, where prisoners stood in cells in shackles, glancing up to see what had come but only to shrink back in fear when they saw Leandro and Akira. Their eyes widened and their bodies would quiver at the sight of them. Akira could see a mother who held her children close to her chest & burying her face in their heads and two siblings who huddled together & glared up at them.

  
Leandro and Akira would receive plates of food — no, mere scraps. All the plates had were ripped off pieces of dry meat and raw rice, with maybe a small pile of burnt beans or grits. This could barely feed a cat, much less a person or even what looked to be over 30 prisoners in this Wing! Leandro was terrified, what if they didn’t find Pana or Hanare here? What if they weren’t in the West Wing but in some other Wing? He’d heard stories of prisoners fighting or … or even being killed on the spot but no! No, no, no!

  
Leandro couldn’t believe that. Pana and Hanare were geniuses and they could fight as well, even better, then he could! Pana had her taser that she had engineered herself and Hanare could throw a punch worthy of an award! His friends would survive. They had to survive. Leandro had to believe it or he wouldn’t know what to do. But he was losing hope, they had fed almost all of the prisoners but there was no sign of Hanare or Pana. Dread churned heavily in his chest, his worst fears racing through his mind.

  
But as he hurried to feed the last cellmates, his heart rose with a joyful beat and he had to shove down the need to hurry over and hug his friends right away (which wouldn’t have been possible considering the steel bars, but whatever. Let him live.) He almost couldn’t recognize Pana without her large green hoodie and ridiculous alien sneakers and Hanare didn’t have his iconic orange headband, but he could still recognize them despite their ragged prisoner clothing.

  
“Hanare! Pana!” He whispered sharply, making them jolt as they looked at him, confused as to why Leandro’s voice was coming out of a Kyatchāv soldier.

  
“I’m here to save you!”

  
Hanare peered at him, “How do we know you’re not a Kyatchāv soldier?” He hissed, but his voice trembled with fear. Leandro understood his caution though, the Kyatchāv were horrible.

  
Leandro bit his lip, thinking for a moment before blurting out, “One time Pana ate five cups of old Cup-O-Noodles and threw up in the cookie batter that you had prepared that night so she went out and brought another batch of cookie dough but she also threw up on that so I felt back and said that I ate it instead.”

  
“Yeah, it’s him,” Pana mused, smiling as Hanare made fake gagging noises. She swung her head at him, staring upon him with owl eyes. “What took you so hard. Had a hot date or something?”

  
“Na, the guy’s face is uglier than his personality. I shot a hole in his wall,” he shrugged.

  
Akira rushed to him and Leandro could practically feel his annoyance. “What are you doing?” He hissed at Leandro, eyes narrowing. “Did you find your friends or what?”

  
“Oooh, is that your hot date?” Hanare crowed teasingly. As much as a huge sweetheart he was, Hanare was as noisy as a mouse. And Leandro had thought Pana was horrible.

  
Akira paused, “Date?” He echoed. 

Leandro turned to Akira. “These two are Hanare and Pana! So, Mr. Hotshot, how are we getting them out?”

  
Akira slid his knife out of pocket before slicing the lock open, which clattered to the marble floor with a loud noise. The other prisoners peered at them, whispering frantically among themselves as Leandro eyed them carefully.

  
“Get up!” He commanded in what he imagined was an convincing Kyatchāv voice. He grabbed Pana & Hanare and hauled them out roughly, murmuring a gentle apology before turning to Akira and whispering, “Go along with it.”

  
Akira nodded. “Come on! We’re taking you to the fighting arena, I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful surprise for your opponent. Such fragile bones you have, what a pity.” The other prisoners quickly turned away at the words fighting arena, eyes wide and limbs back to quivering.

  
They hurried down the hall, but not without trouble.

  
The commander from earlier stepped in front of them, inspecting them with his hard gaze. “And what do you think you’re doing with those prisoners?”

  
“Oh, oh! Um,” Leandro wildly searched for a plausible excuse for wandering around. “We we’re bringing them to the fighting arena, we just don’t know where it is.”

  
“But, I am the only soldier allowed to do that,” The soldier said, eyes glittering hard like onyx jewels, hard and able to make your skin run red with one touch. “Let’s go see what the emperor thinks about that, hm?”

  
Their eyes widened with surprise as the soldier started to haul them away before Hanare screamed and drove his elbow into the soldier's stomach, who fell back. Pana turned around in one quick move, grabbing the large army rifle and aiming it at his head, the bullet swiftly going through as Akira drove his knife into his stomach. A pool started to run down his stomach, blood gurgling from his mouth as he clawed at the ground weakly before going limp.

  
Leandro stared at them as Akira pulled his knife out of the soldier's stomach and wiped the blood off the soldier's armor. “Okay, you guys are just going to do that? Just like that? Okay, alright, that’s cool.”

  
And so, they continued on until they found the hole in the wall. Hanare lifted Akira up, who lifted up Pana, who lifted up Leandro, and who lifted Hanare up. Leandro pressed onto a button against his microphone, “Hey, we got Pana and Hanare. You guys can come now.”

  
A few minutes later, the aircraft came around, hovering in the air. The blades swung around, wind blowing in their faces as Hiroshi threw a latter down and as they climbed up.

  
Hiroshi screamed when he saw Leandro and Akira, scrambling away with wide eyes. “Hey, hey! Hiroshi, it's just us, it’s just us!” Akira said, throwing off the helmet of the armor. Leandro did the same.

  
“Oh,” he said. “Okay.” Leandro suspected it wasn’t okay, but he didn’t press any further as Hiroshi stumbled into the drivers seat. It was conversation for another time.

  
“So … who are you?” Hanare asked, tilting his head at Akira. “Your not, like, a murderer or anything, right?”

  
Akira looked mildly unimpressed “No. I’m Akira.”

  
“Well, Akira,” Pana announced. “Anybody who knows I threw up in Hanara's cookie dough needs to die so things aren’t looking too good for you.”

  
Akira stares blankly for a moment before breaking out into laughter and before long, the rest of dissolved into a fit of laughter. And it was like them for the rest of the ride home.  
Well, until Dante yelled at them to stop laughing so much.

X

After Dante and Hiroshi figured out how to hide a huge aircraft (and how to stop it,) they arrived at the house. The house itself was pretty nice, it was made out dark cedar wood and was surrounded by birch trees, with cypress vines growing along the sides and beds of flowers growing along the front of the house.

  
“Ooh,” Pana said as she admired the house.

“It’s so pretty. Do you guys have any pets?”

  
“Well, we have two cats named Red and Black. Akira thinks they’re siblings even though they don’t look like it. Figures, he was the one who decided to name his after colors,” Hiroshi answered with a chuckle. He looked better then when they had terrified him with the soldier's armor. “Black’s pretty chill, but he’s kinda acts like a dad. And Red is ... not as nice.”

  
They all laughed at that. Dante added, “We also have one wolf, Kosmo. Akira says he’s a dog, but he’s just blind to the fact that Kosmo once dragged a dead deer home.”

  
Akira scowled, “He’s clearly an dog. You two are just old.”

  
But, when Dante opened the door, they were greeted with the sight of two women. One of them had short, silver hair and had pink, Okurinushi markings; which were slight curls underneath their eyes. Her skin was a dark mocha and she wore a long-sleeved shirt that was a light purple with a darker-colored vest with a bag slung over her shoulder, her hands covered with gloves. She looked … scary. Very, very scary. Scary Lady.

  
The other women had longer, blonde hair tied into braids with blue, Okurinushi markings and fair, light skin. She wore a brown, bomber jacket with a pink t-shirt, and jeans tied with a leather belt, a sword strapped to her back.

She looked a bit kinder, but Leandro was sure she could beat him in a fight all the same.

  
“Hello humans,” Scary Lady addressed them, her blue eyes suddenly becoming like ice as she stood up and put her hands on her hips, narrowing her eyes. “I am Alzina Al-Abbas and this is my lovely partner-in-crime, Rosanna Agreste. And we might have to kill you.”


End file.
